Flower of Poison
by EmmaLynn Kay
Summary: Le Cerveau and L'Espirit are French assassins. They are very skilled, and very good at their job. But they are not who they seem. Ellie Rogers and Amy Stark are best friends. They are also superheroes. Not that the world needs to know that.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Natasha: Obsession

_Le Cerveau et L'Espirit. A pair of twin assassins. Ruthless, fearless, and incredibly efficient, they kill without thought, sometimes without reason. They are strong, mentally and physically, and the best in the business. They've earned a name for themselves, the Brain and the Spirit. They were trained from the time they were children, though they're little more than children now. In fact, they are still in their teens._

_They both have their own strengths. L'Espirit, who seems to be unable to use an alias for longer than five minutes, is very strong, physically. She's been seen to lift weight exceeding more than twice her weight. She can crush metal without seemingly breaking a sweat, and her fighting skills are the most advanced we've ever seen._

_Le Cerveau, on the other hand, is incredibly smart. While L'Espirit is physically strong, le Cerveau is mentally strong. Intelligence suggests that she has a mental capacity rivaling that of Dr. Bruce Banner. She is a strategist, and seems to be responsible for looking after L'Espirit._

_They are credited with over forty assassinations in seven years, combined and separated. __We __**I**_ _think it's gone too far._

Natasha puts the pen down and looks out the window, the same window that had been broken when Natalie was kidnapped. It is a nice summer day, but she can't see it. The room has been left exactly how it was that day. Clint has tried to get her to change it, to move on, but Natasha simply can't. She feels that if she gets rid of Natalie's things, she'll be giving up on finding her. And Natasha does not want that feeling. She will never give up on Natalie.

Natasha wipes at her eyes, though no tears have formed there - yet. She doesn't want to think about Natalie right now, most days she doesn't, but that little red-haired five-year-old is always in the back of her mind. Natasha has no clue where Natalie is - is she dead? is she a prisoner? Natasha hates to think about the possibilities, they just break her down even more.

She squeezes her eyes closed as she starts to weep. The notebook slides from her lap, thunking to the wood floor. Clint appears in the doorway a moment later, his brown eyes narrowed in concern. "Nat?" he says, "Come on Nat, let's go." He steps over the toys scattered on the floor to where Natasha sits on the edge of the low child's bed. He wraps his arm around her, picking her notebook up off the floor, and leads her from the room, closing the door behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Anastasia: Winter's Child

The snow falls in a thick stream around the old castle as a tall dark-haired girl looks out one of the many windows. She scans the grounds, her pale blue eyes narrowing as she studies the white landscape. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spies a flash of red. A smile grows on her face, and she stands from her position.

Anastasia runs down the deserted hallways - it is always much less crowded in the winter months, when it is colder and people would much rather somewhere warmer. In the past there have often been more people than there are now, but this winter, as Anastasia well knows, has been colder and snowier than most in the region, which is typically very warm. But Anastasia doesn't mind the cold. She likes it, in fact, so much so that some of her trainers call her _Enfant de L'hiver. _The phrase simply means "Winter's Child," a truly accurate description of the girl, as she was born in the middle of winter.

She enters the main hall just as the door opens, letting in a slim redheaded girl bundled up in thick furs. The redhead's face lights up with a smile at the sight of her dark-haired counterpart, and she rushes forwards, shedding her layers of clothing as she does. "Asia!" she calls, "It's a lot colder than it was when I left."

Anastasia laughs, "You left in _October_, Talia. The weather was bound to change between then and now."

Talia shakes her head and puts her arm around Anastasia as the two of them go up the curved staircase, leaving her wet gear all over the floor. "It doesn't really matter does it?" she asks.

"I guess not," Anastasia says. They reach the landing, and Anastasia pushes open the door to the room they still share. "How'd it go?" she asks, "You were in...Africa, right?"

Talia laughs, shaking out her red curls as she looks in the mirror. "Yes, Asia, I was. And it was _hot._ Not this freezing crap."

"I like it," Anastasia shrugs, lounging on her bed.

"I know you do!" Talia turns to look at the darker girl, hands on her hips, "But I don't!" She stares at Anastasia with eyes narrowed for a few moments before both girls burst out laughing. Shaking her head, Talia gathers a dark skirt and blood red top and walks to the door. "I'm taking a shower, don't break anything."

"I don't break things!" Anastasia calls after her, to which Talia simply laughs.

**A/N: I'll try to update every day, since I have five chapters of this already. After that, I can't promise anything.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Liz: Screams**

"Hey Clint," Liz calls, walking into the office, "Your wife around? I got info on her French obsession."

The blond agent looks up from his phone. "She's out for lunch," he tells her, "What ya got?"

Liz flops into a seat next to him, shoving a manila folder into his hands. "They've done it again," she says, almost a groan, "This time in Libya."

Clint sits up straighter. "What?" He flips open the folder, scanning the document inside. "They did _what?_"

"Actually, we think it was just the one," Liz corrects him, "The smart one." She leans forward and taps the paper. "Striking a hidden military base - _our _military base - killing the commander and getting out within five minutes."

"Yeah, that sounds like Cerveau." Clint sighs, closing the folder. "What are they gonna do next?"

"What are who gonna do?"

Clint and Liz look up to see Natasha, her red hair curled to perfection and dressed in a sharp black suit, standing in the doorway. She holds a coffee cup in her hand, along with a brown paper bag. She comes further into the room, placing the cup and bag on the desk. "I got you a bagel," she tells Clint. "What are you talking about?"

Clint glances at Liz and tries to move the folder before she sees it, opening the bag right on top of it. "Mmm, looks good Nat." he says, pulling out a sizzling-hot bagel.

Natasha crosses her arms. "Clint. Answer me." Amazingly, it seems like she hasn't seen the folder, and Liz is impressed at Clint's abilities.

"It's not important, Nat." Scratch that. He obviously has no idea how to deal with Natasha.

"If it's so unimportant, why are you hiding it from me?" Natasha asks. She leans forward, tugging the folder out from under the bagel bag. Apparently she has seen. She flips it open, takes one glance at the papers inside. "Why were you trying to keep this from me?" she demands, waving the folder in Clint's face. Liz eases off her chair, standing slowly.

"I'll just go..." the blonde says. Neither of them look at her, and she makes her escape before it blows. As she closes the door, Liz can hear Natasha shouting at Clint - something about keeping secrets from her and he knows this is important to her, so how could he?

Petra raises her eyebrow. She is sitting at a small desk a few feet away from the office door. As a minor agent, she doesn't get her own office, and neither does Liz, actually. Petra's dark brown hair, still obstinately streaked with green, is piled into a very messy bun on the top of her head, and she must have been in a hurry this morning, because she is wearing a pair of yoga pants and a Yankees T-shirt that is most definitely _not _hers, considering it's practically swallowing her tiny body.

But Liz ignores all that, because Petra is her best friend and, truthfully, she's seen the Brit looking much worse. "He really shouldn't try," she remarks instead, rolling her eyes.

Petra barks out a laugh, reaching for her tea - which, ew, tea is gross and Liz would never understand why Petra drinks the stuff, besides her natural British-ness. "Agreed," she says before she takes a sip of the foul drink. Liz rolls her eyes and makes a face as the screaming behind her reaches epic levels when Natasha shrieks something about Clint's sleeping habits and he retaliates with "You're one to talk!"

"You wanna go get pizza or something?" Liz asks Petra, "I got nothing to do, and I don't really wanna hear the dream team back there having a shouting match."

Petra shrugs, downing some more tea. "Yeah, sure. I have to pick up Ellie from school at three, though." She puts down the cup and starts to shut down her computer, which Liz is pretty sure she was playing Solitaire on anyway.

"Not a problem," Liz says, checking her phone. "It's only one-thirty, we got time."

"Great," Petra stands and shoves her things into her bag. "Let's get outta here." And the two of them blaze a trail out of the building as fast as their feet can carry them.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ellie: Morning

Ellie arrives at the school at five in the morning, when it;s still dark. She likes to go running in the early hours, when no one is around to see her. Besides, it's cool, as the sun is not yet out. She jogs down to the track, dropping her backpack on the bleachers as she does. She strips off her jacket, checks to make sure her shoes are tied tight enough, and turns on her iPod. As Green Day blares in her ear, she starts running.

Ellie has a love for running. Her mom calls it a "need for speed," and says she's gotten it from her dad. That's true enough, but she takes more time to run than most people. It isn't even that she needs a lot of time, she simply likes it. Running makes her feel good about herself, and shouldn't every girl have something like that?

As Ellie runs, the sun comes up, dying the sky pinks and reds, and she feels eyes on her, but keeps on running. When she finally comes to a stop, the sun is high in the sky and the time on her phone reads 6:43. She takes a deep breath, and heads back towards her bag. As she does, a voice calls out: "How far did you get today?"

Ellie looks up to see a short blonde sitting a few steps up on the bleachers, her backpack beside her and her feet up on the bench in front of her. She has her elbows propped on her knees, and her chin in her hands. Ellie smiles. "Twenty-three miles." She reaches into her bag for her water bottle, and frowns when it isn't there. "Amy, have you-" she looks up at her friend, who is making a face that reminds Ellie of the Cheshire Cat. "Amy. Water bottle. Now."

"Aw, you ruin all my fun." Amy reaches behind her, revealing the water bottle, and tosses it to Ellie. As she does, she stands, picking up her backpack. "You're getting faster." she remarks.

Ellie grins, knowing she's right. "And you're getting better at being coherent this early." she says, causing Amy to huff.

"The only reason I'm awake right now is because Anthony's my ride and he had some science geek thing to go to." Amy waves her hand in the general direction of the school. "If I had my way, I'd be sleeping."

"What science geek thing?" Ellie asks. She shakes her curly brown hair out of her ponytail, fluffing it around her shoulders. She's spent her whole life around Amy's family; she feels a personal investment in everything they do.

Amy flaps her hand at Ellie erratically. "How should I know? I don't care." She steps up onto the bench in front of Ellie and picks up the brunette's bag, tossing it at her. "Come on, let's go find Grace."

Ellie raises an eyebrow at her. "Will _she _be here this early?" she asks as she steps onto the stairs running along the length of the bleachers.

Amy falls into step with her. "Probably. Nerd." She tosses her blonde hair as if she's a supermodel in a shampoo commercial. Ellie rolls her eyes at Amy's dramatics.

"Whatever, Ames." she laughs. Being Amy's best friend gives her a lot of laughs, as her bubbly (and slightly insane) personality lends herself to some _very_ interesting moments.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Clint: Enough

Natasha gnaws on the end of her pen when she's thinking.

After twenty-five years of knowing each other, Clint has figured this out. Actually, he figured that out in the first two weeks of knowing her. She tends to think a lot, which he guesses is a good thing - Petra says that Natasha does the thinking for both of them. She's not exactly right, Clint thinks plenty. He just isn't as public about it.

Natasha is sitting across from him in their shared office, laptop open. Spread out on her desk are papers from her case on Le Cerveau and L'Espirit. A notebook sits in front of her, and she occasionally makes notes. Clint knows what she's doing: trying to find a pattern in their activities so she can track them down.

If he's honest (which he usually is, except for Those Few Times), he thinks she is taking this a bit too far. Sure, they're dangerous killers (who are also _teenagers_, for Pete's sake), but she doesn't need to spend every waking moment thinking about them. Yes, they (or the organization they answer to) were responsible for Natalie's kidnapping, but they still have one child. And Clint knows that Jamie is tired of sitting on the sidelines.

Now,that doesn't mean that Clint does not care. He does. He wants Le Cerveau and L'Espirit captured as much as Natasha does. He misses Natalie, of course, she's his _daughter_. But there's a part of him that's had enough of it all. Enough of Natasha freaking out every time something about them comes up. Enough of this _insanity._

He sighs, standing up. He can't concentrate; he's spent the last ten minutes watching Natasha. Besides, it's almost three, and Jamie's school is letting out soon. When he pushes his chair back, Natasha looks up at him with confusion in her brown eyes, and he simply tells her that he has to pick up their son before she loses interest and goes back to her work.

In the car, he calls Liz, then Petra. When they don't answer, he calls Tony, hoping that he is not in a work-driven passion today. He isn't, and picks up. "Hello Clayton." he greets.

Clint sighs, swinging left. "First, that's not my name. Second, have you heard from your wife in the last two hours?"

"Liz? Nah. She said she was with Petra."

"That's what I though. Well, I'm going to pick up Jamie. Want me to get Amy while I'm there?"

"Won't Anthony give her a ride? He drives, right?"

Clint sighs. Tony's a lot like Natasha sometimes, the way he barely knows his own kids. "No, he has early dismissal, then he's helping Bruce."

There's a dull thud; either Tony's dropped something or he's hit himself on the forehead. Clint is betting on the latter. "Right! Then yeah, get Amy too."

Clint nods, not caring that Tony can't see him. "Great. Is Steve there, or should I just assume that I need to get his kid too?"

"Nah, he's getting her himself." There's a pause, and some banging. "Hey, thanks, by the way."

Clint pulls into the line that extends halfway down the street from the school. He's late today. "Not a problem," he tells Tony. "I got nothin' to do anyway."

"Great." Tony sounds tense all of a sudden, and Clint gets the feeling that something is about to go wrong. The urge to duck is overwhelming. "Look, I gotta go. See ya." He hangs up the phone, and Clint sighs, hoping for Amy's sake that he doesn't blow himself up.

**And this ends the parts that I have already written. I'll be working on chapter six now, and I'll probably start to post Dangerous soon.**


End file.
